


Anything But a Wedding Invitation

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff, Future, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-03
Updated: 2006-04-03
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Michael gets a cryptic note from Brian that may have more importance than it intially appears.





	Anything But a Wedding Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: I like to think of this as the kind of alter-ego to the first QAF fic I wrote, Weekdays. They both came from the same idea, though they diverged into different directions. This one, I believe, is what my brain _wishes_ would have happened as opposed to what I think is more plausible. This fic will most likely have a companion fic in the future.  


* * *

Time changed things.

Michael had this bad habit of judging time as it was relative to when Justin left and Mel and Lindsay took the kids to Canada. The first year, it was painful and raw all the time, having lost so many people he cared about all at once, even if it was just miles between them and they still saw each other. The second year, it was kind of a passing concern, a soft realization of the time that had passed since everything had changed. The third year, it was an even less pressing feeling, because he saw and spoke to Mel and Lindz and the kids often enough, and things started to become normal without them there. 

It was kind of painful to realize that they had become only a slight notation in his life, that that week they had all left was some kind of macabre anniversary that left Brian bristly and not wanting to talk to anyone at all. Brian would always disappear that week, and none of them knew where, and none of them could contact him. It was a mini mystery of sorts, one that had worried Michael the first year but that had become just routine by the second.

He’d seen Mel and Lindz and the kids exactly nine times since they had left, but he knew that Brian has seen them a few more times when he’d had business trips up north. What Michael _didn’t_ know what whether Brian’s business trips ever included a little detour to see Justin as well. The first few months after they had all left, he had asked Brian about Justin often, and so had his mother and everyone else. When the answers failed to be conclusive, he began to ask less and less often. Halfway through the second year, he stopped asking.

The first year, it had been strange to get up and realize that he couldn’t just ride his bike over to Melanie and Lindsay’s house, that there was no chance of Justin opening the door to the loft when he went to go visit Brian. It was strange to think that Brian probably still had a ring in a box somewhere, a ring that waited for Justin if and when he ever came home.

By the second year, it was still strange, but things had fallen into a sense of quiet normalcy with them gone, almost as if they had never been there at all. They adjusted, things changed, and none of them _forgot_ the others per se—but their thoughts of them proved to be less frequent, and each of Michael’s subconscious wonderings about why Justin wasn’t sitting next to Brian at the diner or why Lindsay and Melanie didn’t walk through the door started to drift away until Michael almost stopped having them at all. It was almost as if he’d never had them in the first place.

By the time the three year anniversary of their parting came, and went, those little thoughts had almost disappeared altogether. Things settled and grew and shifted to fill the spaces that Justin and Melanie and Lindsay and the kids once filled. None were forgotten, but after those three years, it seemed as if they really were, truly _gone_.

* * *

The piece of paper had Kinnetik logo on it, but the note was printed in a fancy script font. It was so paradoxical, printed on paper that Brian used so carelessly every day of his life, mingled with something obviously carefully planned and typed in a font so refined that it seemed to suggest something deeper was going on here. It was so confusing and nonsensical and so very _Brian_.

Michael had found it with his mail one morning near the end of June, seen the careful cursive of their names on the outside, in handwriting that he recognized very clearly as Brian’s. The last time Michael had received a note written with such meticulous care from Brian had been the wedding invitations Brian and Justin had sent for their aborted wedding. Yet this was anything _but_ a wedding invitation.

The words contained in the message were equally paradoxical and confusing. They read like a formal letter despite the decorative type, and yet the note was short and direct and at the same time completely vague. Brian seemed to be trying for purposely ambiguous, which failed in the mystique behind the _gesture_ but succeeded in mystifying Michael at least.

>   
>  _To the Novotny-Bruckners:_
> 
> _Be at the corner outside the Liberty Diner at 9 o’clock on the morning of June 22, 2008. Your presence is strongly requested. Formal attire is expected. A car will arrive not long afterward to pick you up._
> 
> Very Truly Yours,  
>  _Brian A. Kinney_

In true Brian Kinney fashion, Michael received the letter one June 21, and the other man was not reachable by cell phone, was not at his home, and had given no instructions to his office as to where would be the best place to reach him. It seemed almost as if Brian had left these instructions for Michael and Ben and Hunter and then just dropped off the face of the earth.

And so Michael did the only thing he could do—he pulled one of his nicest suits out of his closet and put it on the next morning, a warm Sunday, and walked with Ben and Hunter to the corner outside the Liberty Diner.

* * *

Michael and Ben were early, much due to Ben’s insistence that they leave a little before they had to in order to ensure that they’d be there on time. Michael, Ben and Hunter rounded the corner toward the diner, prepared to be forced to wait at least a good ten minutes to find out whatever strange surprise Brian seemed to have planned for all of them.

The surprise came much sooner than that, though. Already standing at the corner, dressed in very fine suits, were Blake, Ted, and Emmett (though admittedly, Emmett’s suit was a little over-the-top, a little flamboyant, a little campy and overall _very_ Emmett). Another surprise was that Michael’s mother was there, in an equally campy multi-colored dress with Carl at her side, also dressed formally. 

Michael stepped up next to them, and they all turned to give them a look, embracing each other genially, though they all looked very confused. After hugging his mother, Michael pulled back to look at the others.

“Did you get a note too?” was all he had to ask, and the others all nodded. Michael sighed, resting his body against the side of the diner and looking at his friends and family. His mother spoke to him almost immediately.

“Any idea what the fuck Brian has planned _this_ time?” Debbie inquired bluntly, and Michael just shrugged, meeting the others’ eyes questioningly—but they all just looked equally puzzled.

“I don’t know what it is, but it must be something big if he got us all here and dressed up,” a voice from behind Debbie said, and they turned to see Jennifer and Molly Taylor standing there, looking just as perplexed as the rest of them felt. Molly was grown then, and she had blossomed into a very pretty young woman, wearing a pale blue dress that flattered her figure. Jennifer wore a simple but elegant black dress, indicating, even if she hadn’t said so out loud, that the note they had received had been similar to the one that Michael had gotten the previous day.

Something about their presence seemed to suggest something to Michael, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. Before he had time to figure it out, there were more new arrivals—Cynthia first, and then Daphne just a few minutes before nine.

And suddenly, Michael was wondering if he shouldn’t have worn a nicer suit.

* * *

It was five minutes after nine when a long, black limo pulled up in front of where the twelve of them were gathered, and Michael didn’t have a single doubt in his head that the limo was reserved for them. It became even clearer when the driver’s side door of the limo opened and the chauffeur stepped out, coming around the car to open the side door.

“Mr. Kinney’s party, I assume,” the man said as he regarded them, and Michael wasn’t sure where Brian had managed to find a man with such a trite upper-crust British accent, but the absolute ridiculous stereotype in it was impossible to ignore.

“Yes, that’s us,” Ben confirmed politely when no one else spoke up. The chauffeur nodded, opening the door and motioning for them to get inside. Ben waited for a moment, none of them filing in yet, before speaking again. “Could you give us some idea of where you’re taking us?” Ben inquired, not sounding suspicious as much as he sounded curious. The chauffeur looked almost miffed by the question.

“My instructions were simply to drive you to Mr. Kinney’s preplanned destination, and not to share any details with you,” the man said austerely, continuing to hold the door open expectantly. “You will receive further information once you arrive at your destination, I assure you.”

They all exchanged a look at the cryptic orders, but finally, Emmett was the first one to step forward toward the limo. They all looked at him uncertainly, but he turned to look over his shoulder at them. 

“Oh _please_ ,” Emmett exhaled dramatically. “If Brian wanted to have us all led to some sort of psycho killer, I’m sure he would have done it long before now. Let’s humor him, hm?” Emmett sounded as if he was having a great amount of fun with this little mystery.

Without another pause, the rest of them followed Emmett’s lead and made their way toward the limousine.

* * *

The second shock of the morning came at the sight of four very familiar faces already residing inside the limo. Melanie and Lindsay sat there smiling at them as they all got inside, looking happy to see their friends. Gus, who was now eight, and Jenny, who was four, both looked at them all with the innocence that only childhood could breed, and Jenny bounded across the limo to wrap her arms around Michael’s legs.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, her infectious smile immediately warming Michael inside. He sat down, pulling his daughter onto his lap.

“Mel, Lindz, what are you doing here?” Michael inquired with a smile as he looked across the limo at the other two. Both the women smiled, Lindsay answering the question first.

“Brian insisted that it was imperative he fly us down here right away, though he didn’t say why,” Lindsay reported, and all the others looked around at each other, expressions frustrated and still confused. The two women took this in, watching their friends for a moment. As Molly Taylor finally seated herself inside the limo and the chauffer closed the door behind her, Melanie spoke.

“I take it you guys are in kind of the same position?” she finally inquired, and they all nodded, Michael noticing for the first time that Gus was in a little suit and Jenny was wearing a long, girly dress, Melanie and Lindsay dressed to match the rest of the group. Clearly, they had all gotten the same vague instructions from Brian.

At their expressions, Melanie shook her head, chuckling darkly to herself. “All I have to say is: ‘this had better be good.’”

The others all exchanged another look.

* * *

They had been driving for a little over twenty minutes, the early summer landscape green and spacious once they left the city, before Michael started to _really_ wonder where they were going. He’d never taken this road before, didn’t quite know where it led or even quite what direction they were headed in. Melanie and Lindsay were filling the others in on their lives since the last time they had visited Pittsburgh while Gus regaled a story to the willingly listening Taylors about the new bike he had gotten.

“Does anyone have any idea where we’re going?” Michael asked suddenly, and a few of the others in the car shrugged. Ben turned to his husband.

“It looks like we’re heading southwest,” he surmised after a moment, glancing out the window again as if to confirm his conjecture. “We should probably be out of Pennsylvania soon, if we keep heading this way.”

Less than a minute later, a sign rose up in the side window, as if somehow commanded by Ben’s words.

“ _Welcome to West Virginia_.”

* * *

“Holy _Jesus_ ,” Debbie breathed out as the limo slowed in front of a large old home not terribly far past the state lines. It was beautifully painted, well-maintained, and it looked like it cost more money than most anything Michael had ever even dreamed of owning. It became very clear that this was their destination when the limo slowed to a stop in the long driveway. “Who _lives_ here?”

All the occupants of the limousine exchanged another glance, but none of them seemed to have any more answers. After a few moments of awed silence inside the motionless vehicle, Ted finally piped up.

“There’s been something weird on Brian’s finances for the last few years,” the accountant ventured after a long silence, and all the others turned to look at him. “Actually, there have been a lot of strange things on Brian’s finances in the last few years, but there’s been only one thing that’s been completely constant.”

Michael stared at the other man in disbelief. “You’re saying that _Brian_ owns this place?” he finally asked, his tone completely incredulous. Ted looked at him for a long moment before shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s not as if he can’t afford it,” Ted replied noncommittally, preparing to get out of the limo as the driver got out and pulled the door open for them. More confused than he had been a few moments before, Michael tentatively followed Ted and the others out of the car, brushing the wrinkles out of his pants as he came to stand on the ground outside of the beautiful manor. After he was sure that he worst of the wrinkles were gone, he looked up…

…to see Brian standing in the open doorway of the manor, looking down at all of them with a slight grin, the climbing ivy on the wall next to the door framing his body. Brian was wearing a neat suit, probably Armani or something else ridiculously expensive, but this suit seemed much more formal than his usual choice of work attire. Brian had his customarily cocky grin on his face as he spotted all of them standing at the edge of the drive.

The years had treated Brian kindly, and as each year passed, Michael had begun to wonder if his earlier statement, that Brian would always be beautiful, was more truthful than he had known at the time. It wasn’t that there wasn’t any evidence that Brian had aged—Michael had no suspicion that he had a portrait hidden upstairs, aging _for_ him—but something about the way that Brian’s face had become very slightly lined and his hair very slightly grey gave him an air of almost-refinement that he hadn’t had in his earlier years.

Three years shy of forty, and Brian Kinney was still young, and still beautiful.

* * *

The first words out of Brian’s mouth were a kind of morbid sarcasm, which was almost comforting in its normalcy because Michael still didn’t have the faintest idea of what was going on. “I see you all managed to make it here without any serious accidents or untimely deaths.”

“It frightens me that you were expecting anything different,” Ted said blandly, taking a few steps toward Brian with a look of soft suspicion on his face. “So, Bri, is this that thing you’ve made me keep paying for with Kinnetik’s profits?”

Brian just smiled enigmatically, avoiding an answer. Instead, he pulled the door open and motioned them all inside, watching as the others shuffled in, surprising him by not pestering him any more for answers. To most of them, though, it seemed clear that Brian wasn’t going to provide them any answers, unless they were on his terms with his timing. Silently, Michael followed his best friend through the house, the others all behind them as he led them to the back door. 

The house was just as magnificent on the inside as it appeared on the outside, furnished in rich colors that seemed to give some sort of deep substance to the old country home while still making it seem almost cozy. Every room they passed through seemed to have vaulted ceilings, a fireplace, numerous rugs—all of which added to the initial impression that Michael had gotten when he had first set eyes upon the house.

When they reached the back door, Brian turned around to face them again, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Welcome to Britin,” Brian said carefully, glancing at each of them in turn. Before Michael had time to fully digest those words, though, and try to make some sort of guess at what they meant, Brian was whirling around again, turning the doorknob and pushing the door open.

If the inside of the house was magnificent, the outside was absolutely breathtaking. Mostly open space seemed to stretch on for further than Michael’s eyes could see, and the first thing that Michael’s eyes gravitated to were the things in the distance—not far away, Michael could see a tennis court, and much further away, he could see the outline of what looked very suspiciously like a stable.

Then, after a long moment, Michael’s eyes fell upon the scene in the foreground, and it was a wonder to him that that hadn’t been the first thing he had noticed. There was a clearing with a large terrace in the middle of it, which was decorated with dozens of tasteful flowers. Pillars were on each side, both of which had large floral arrangements on them as well, and there was a decorative wooden archway that seemed almost to hold its own mini hanging garden.

Just in front of the decorative archway stood Justin, in black slacks, a black blazer, and blue dress shirt that flattered his eyes in the most appealing fashion. But what was most apparent was the large, overpowering grin on Justin’s face, the one that seemed to light up everything around it, that seemed to become even brighter as he spotted Brian and the others walking up.

Everyone but Brian stopped in their tracks, staring at Justin in disbelief. Most of them hadn’t seen Justin since he had left for New York; Michael had almost been sure that Justin wouldn’t be coming back at all.

And then, Brian turned to them with a grin, held his arms out to indicate the scene around him, and said, “Welcome to our wedding.”

And Michael was sure that this had to be one of the strangest wedding invitations he had ever received.

****

END

 

****

Note: If you’re looking for the major Brian/Justin smut, don’t worry; I have an almost definite plan to tell the other side of this story, probably from Brian’s point of view, in which you see how all of this came about.


End file.
